Just about every day I’m thinking, in the back of my mind, that Cody’s Books is going to be re-opening, any day now, and it’ll be a dynamic cultural center, just like it was back in the old days.

And Duncan is gonna come back. And co-publish another issue of the Telegraph Street Calendar. And we’ll set up our vending table right in front of Cody’s Books. Just like the old days.

And Ray Winters — that crazy old Zen hippie — will set up his vending table right next to ours. Selling his hand-made Star Sticks and hackey-sacks, and preaching his crazy wisdom to anyone who’s willing to listen, in between smoking his marijuana.

And the flower shop will be right across from us. With all the beautiful flower girls selling their beautiful flowers.

And the Caffe Med will re-open so we can buy a small to-go coffee for a buck and a quarter (and endless 50 cent refills).

And Hate Man will pull up with his beloved shopping cart Gilda (named after Gilda Radner). And set up Hate Camp at Bench One and Bench Two on Sproul Plaza. And bring out the Hate Man drum circle every night, and make such a racket you can hear it for 20 blocks, and all the beautiful young street chicks in their gypsy hippie and gutter punk clothes will be dancing along. Just like in the old days.

And all the weird and wild and colorful people — known back then as “the Telegraph street characters” — are putting on their performances on every street corner.

And I’m young and strong and have a full head of hair and a dynamic artistic career in front of me, and the sky is the limit, anything is possible, and the only limits is my imagination, and that’s not much of a limit.

And in the back of my mind, I keep thinking those days are going to be coming back now. Any day now. Soon . . .